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<title>[don't] act your age by incogneat_oh</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310592">[don't] act your age</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneat_oh/pseuds/incogneat_oh'>incogneat_oh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Batfamily, Fast Food, Gen, Humour, Slice of Life, weird families bonding weirdly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:55:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>849</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneat_oh/pseuds/incogneat_oh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Hi Bruce!” Dick calls, half-sitting up now. “You’re on speaker.”</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>“Hello boys,” says Bruce, sounding weirdly fond. (It’s probably the connection.)</i><br/>--<br/>A snippet of the Batboys on a roadtrip. (Teen rating is for innuendo.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>547</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>[don't] act your age</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick is stretched out on the sagging double bed, fast food debris littered around him. There’s a full soda resting by his hip, his fries lying precariously on his stomach, and he’s happily digging into his burger.</p>
<p>Damian’s sitting at the foot of the bed, legs trailing over the end. He’s still pouting over the Happy Meal Jason had ordered for him, but he had stopped yelling before they even reached the motel. (He’d run out of steam as soon as Dick had laughingly said, “This is why you need a Happy Meal, kiddo. Your personality is begging for one.” Damian, seething, had sunk lower into his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and hasn’t spoken since.<br/>
He’s refused to even look at the toy, instead picking sourly at his fries and digging gouges into the brightly coloured cardboard box with his thumbnail.)</p>
<p>Tim and Jason are side by side on the single bed on the other side of the room, Tim cross-legged, shoes kicked off on the carpet nearby, and Jason propped lazily against the wall, still wearing his mud-caked boots. They’re occasionally swapping the dipping sauces for their nuggets, and Tim is valiantly pretending not to notice that Jason keeps stealing sips of his thickshake.</p>
<p>It’s almost serene.</p>
<p>Then Dick’s phone rings, blasting Kanye West at full volume, and Dick jolts, tipping his soda sideways onto the bed. He swears, half-rolling to catch it and dislodging what’s left of his fries, spilling them over the top of the covers, and, rapidly righting the soda before it can spill more than a few drops, says “Dami, wanna get the phone?” and points to his jacket, where he’d tossed it over the nightstand a few minutes before.</p>
<p>Damian, heaving a long-suffering sigh, sets his food aside and stands, digging the phone out of Dick’s pocket. “Father,” he says, as explanation, and swipes to answer.</p>
<p>“Hello,” he says, formal. Going to sit back at the end of the bed. “Hardly interrupting, Father. We have stopped our <em>adventuring</em> for the day.” He turns around to glower at Dick, who’s too busy scooping what’s left of his fries back into their cardboard to notice.</p>
<p>“Put it on speaker,” Jason says, through a huge mouthful.</p>
<p>Damian, ignoring him, says “Tell Pennyworth that if I survive this trial, I want real food on my return to the Manor. I expect I shall contract scurvy at any moment.”</p>
<p>“You’re literally drinking orange juice right now,” Tim says, with a snort.</p>
<p>Damian goes to speak, but Dick and Jason simultaneously interrupt with “Put him on speaker, Dami–” and “Speaker, brat.”</p>
<p>Damian clicks his tongue and waves them off, but fumbles with the phone until Bruce’s voice fills the room– “–up to right now?”</p>
<p>“Hi Bruce!” Dick calls, half-sitting up now. “You’re on speaker.”</p>
<p>“Hello boys,” says Bruce, sounding weirdly fond. (It’s probably the connection.)</p>
<p>“We’re in another contender for the worst motel in America,” says Damian, over Jason and Tim’s greetings. “Grayson has made a mess as usual, proving once again that he should not be allowed out of his apartment. Todd and Drake are on the other bed, and Todd is slipping Drake his pickle.”</p>
<p>There is a decidedly long pause, in which Dick’s eyes widen, and he struggles to swallow his mammoth mouthful of food and sit up fully.</p>
<p>Tim and Jason look up from their respective burgers, Tim’s mouth falling open, regardless of the food inside, and Jason making a choked sound.</p>
<p>“Damian,” says Bruce, delicately. Sounding a little choked himself. “Did you say-?”</p>
<p>Damian rolls his eyes, and says “Father, you needn’t be so concerned, Drake clearly doesn’t mind.”</p>
<p>There’s another pause, in which Jason puts his hands over his face and starts to laugh, quietly. Bruce says, still sounding unsure, “O…kay…”</p>
<p>A sound like a whimper escapes Tim, and Jason, beginning to howl now, tips fully sideways on the bed, heedlessly dropping his food.</p>
<p>Dick, finally extricated from his food, lunges across the bed and yanks the phone from Damian’s hand and says, trying to regain his composure while Tim, too, loses it, “By which Damian means, we are all eating McDonalds for dinner, and Jason has been giving Tim the pickle slices from his cheeseburgers.”</p>
<p>“Ahh,” Bruce says, sounding regrettably amused. And relieved. “Jason’s aversion to pickles, I remember.”</p>
<p>“Why did you take the phone,” Damian grouses, shoving at Dick with one hand. “And what’s– Todd? Drake? What on earth is wrong with the two of you?”</p>
<p>Jason is limp on the other bed, making short little sounds into the sheets and wiping tears from his eyes. Tim has his face covered, shoulders shaking, and both of them have abandoned what’s left of their dinner.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t worry, Damian,” Bruce says, placidly, as Dick finally gives in and cracks up laughing too.</p>
<p>“This family is <em>so weird</em>,” Damian says, shoving harder at Dick. It isn’t effective; he just grabs Damian’s wrist, still laughing loud and bright.</p>
<p>“No arguments from me,” Bruce chuckles. “Now, why don’t you tell me what else you guys got up to today, buddy?”</p>
<p>
  <b>END.</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Cross posted from tumblr. I forgot this existed, and then spent far too long coming up with a title.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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